“Thanks for the warning,” she says, each word frosted with sarcasm. “I’d hate for a creepy vampire stalker to find me on the street and follow me home.” She marches on.
She’s lucky I find her fit of temper amusing. Her ass is so cute. I admire the way it twitches as she power walks home.
I shouldn’t have left my guard down. When Aurelia reaches her doorway, she unlocks it and scurries inside. Whirling, she snaps, “You are not invited in.” She glares as I approach.
“You are uninvited,” she repeats, as if testing for the right combination of words.
Either phrase does the job. My face and body tingle like I’ve been zapped by an electric fence. I hiss at the invisible barrier.
Aurelia grins coldly in triumph and slams the door on my face.
I pound on the door. “Aurelia.”
When she doesn’t respond, I pound louder until her neighbor’s door opens.
“What the hell is—”
“Go back inside, Karen,” I order. The woman’s mouth closes. I add a few suggestions. By the time I’m done, Karen won’t hear any sounds from Aurelia’s place and won’t remember seeing me at all. Karen toddles back into her side, and I resume pounding.
“Knock it off, or I’ll call the cops,” Aurelia calls through the door.
“What do you think they’ll do?” I demand.
Silence from the other side of the door. I wait. Aurelia’s smart. She’ll come to the logical conclusion that the cops will be hella useless against a vampire. No human can touch me.
The silence stretches to a minute, and I give up on patience. “Shall I start busting in your windows?”
Aurelia throws the door open. For a moment she’s surrounded by a glow--like Madonna with a halo. “Won’t that be inconvenient for sleeping during the day?”
I simply smile. She knows she’s defeated.
“Why don’t you go away?” She’s gorgeous in anger, eyes flashing. My mouth waters at the scent of her magic.
But my patience is gone. “Invite me in. Now, Aurelia .”
She huffs. Her chin tips up in a show of pride.
“You will regret making me wait,” I inform her. It’s not a threat—it’s a fact.
“Fine, come in,” she snaps.
I blur past her, snatching her up by the waist and hoisting her off the floor as I shut the door. She kicks her shapely legs, thrashing and beating me with her fists. “Let. Go. Of me!”
“Do not lock me out,” I growl.
She must realize I mean business because her tone changes. “Wait. Stop,” she wheedles. “I’m sorry. Please calm down. I won’t. I won’t do it again, I promise!”
I touch my fangs with the tip of my tongue, but they haven’t lengthened. So what is she afraid of?
I draw in a deep breath and scent what she’s trying to hide. Arousal. The tiny bit of fear barely tinges the scent, like a bit of chocolate swirl garnishing a large wedge of cake. She’s not afraid of me. She’s afraid of what she feels.
I fist her hair and tip it back, tugging a little to introduce a little pain to the situation. Her scent grows rich and absolutely delicious--strawberries and sunshine and champagne.
Pain makes a vampire victim’s blood sweeter. Over the millenia, my kind have capitalized on this phenomenon through prolonged torture of our victims. More refined vampires, though, like the vampire king Lucius Frangelico, the one who seeks to make Tucson his, utilize sexual fear and pain to create their sweetbloods. Donors come voluntarily to his BDSM dungeon to suffer and receive gratification and offer up their veins for their masters to sample.
I’ve played at the practice, but the curse made it an unsatisfactory game for me, other than the taste of the blood. Now, though, with sweet Aurelia squirming in my arms, I’m suddenly interested in exploring it.
In depth.
I carry my little fae to the couch and arrange her straddled over my thighs. I fill my hands with her ass and squeeze. “That was a very nice apology,” I rumble. “I love the sound of desperation in your voice. But do you really think it’s going to get you out of punishment?”
She relaxes into our game. On some level, she wants to submit to me. “Are you going to spank me?”
“I’m not sure. You might enjoy it too much.”
She flushes.
“I apologize for upsetting you today,” I offer. “But really, I think a bit more trust is in order. I am a vampire, but I was human once. I would not harm the innocent.”
“Your fangs were half out,” she accuses.
Surprise flickers. Were they? I remember blurring to her side. I’d been afraid for her. “For a moment, I thought you were in danger.”
She stares, her eyes rounding. “From a little boy?”
I give a quick shake of my head. “Illogical, I know. I just saw you in a tussle when I walked in, and I had the urge to protect. But they only came out a little. When they are fully elongated and I’m angry, you must be very cautious.”